


The Trouble In Having Saviours

by Nocturnal_Daydreams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A little bit anyway, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Analysis, Canon Compliant, Gen, Harry Potter Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Harry Potter is a Good Friend, How harry takes realising his parents were also kids, Tumblr: Writing-prompt-s, and more than a few bones to pick, and more than a little angry about the last 8 years of his life, too much too young, via the power of my favourite twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 21:03:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16048520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nocturnal_Daydreams/pseuds/Nocturnal_Daydreams
Summary: Something doesn't sit right with Harry through his teens and past The Battle of Hogwarts. A question so prominent he wondered why people didn't ask it often;Why Had This Job Been Left To A Bunch Of Kids?!(A thought prompt on tumblr of realising his parents were 21 when they died - which then took a tone of anger at the question - where were the adults?)





	The Trouble In Having Saviours

Something always sits unsteady with Harry from the moment it begins to show that Voldemort will be back again and again. Something more than just Voldemort. But he can’t place it. But from 13 it strikes a place in the pit of his stomach.

By 15 he figures it out a little. It’s that he’s ‘The Chosen One’ in his teens and now he has to do it all, all while adults cower behind what is essentially a clueless orphan. When he finds out it was also Neville his annoyance turns to fury. It boils over when he finds out about Neville’s mum and dad. They’re kids, just kids! Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, all these people hide behind the kids because of a vague prophecy. Adults cowering and hoping it blows over. It made him sick, angry and bitter and he didn’t see why no one else could see it. Then he thought of Umbridge and realised, it’s because some adults didn’t want it to blow over. That thought made him feel a little ill.

At 16 he picked up on the tensions between shops and customers that he hadn’t before but it had always been there. The uncertainty that each person could be attacked for going to a shop or serving someone. He noticed the stretched smiles or the terse anger from servers. He wanted to scream at everyone for it. Did they want him dead? Were they wondering what was taking him so long to save everyone? Did they doubt the prophecy was true? He spent that afternoon in Fred and George’s flat above their shop and vented to himself over several cups of tea.

One night he stayed up late studying with Hermione. Ginny was helping Ron with his quidditch, he understood and he had his History of Magic to bring in results for. The thoughts of it all played through him like a overwhelming symphony and he rubbed his eyes harshly.

“I’m tired.” He said with a cracked voice and he softly bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want to cry, he didn’t have time.

“Alright, Harry, we can study tomorrow.” She replied and he looked over at his best friend in reflex surprise. From her look she knew he was upset.

“Not that kind of tired.” He gave a sad smile then looked at the fire, “I’m tired of it being this for us. Why would anyone do this to kids? It’s cruel. And I was raised with the Dursleys.”

All the breath left Hermione and he knew what he said had hit home.

“When we’re all older, Harry, we’ll change this world, I can guarentee. We won’t let this happen again.” She reassures but there’s a heavy truth there. He knows if she’s anything to do with it they’ll never go through this again. Not the coward Ministers, no cowering adults, no hiding behind children, no kid soldiers - never again.

“Yeah, a one time thing.” He replies.

He doesn’t know why she doesn’t reply. Then Ginny and Ron comes back and Hermione suggests card games and for a while the world melts away.

The first year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts came around and everyone’s melancholy was almost infectious. Weasley Wizard Wheezes is closed for the day and everyone is around The Burrow. All spaced, alone or in small groups. Harry has a sore subject regarding Dumbledore, the time after gave him enough space to realise what he’d systematically done to the kids to make them the child soldiers everyone wanted. It was hard not to idolise him, it’s what he had done for years. He tried to be understanding but the anger in him thought of every other way anyone could have done any of this.

George brought him a cup of tea and sat cross-legged by him. For a good 5 minutes nothing was said between them. Nothing needed to be, the loss spoke volumes. George was different now, they all were and losing everyone had hurt but losing Fred carved a hole out of George that would never heal. It made him determined to be as kind as funny as ever, sometimes more than himself - to be both sides of the coin so to speak.

Today wasn’t a day for that though.

He sighed in relief after a sip.

Then in contrast to that, his voice was hard, calm and a tint angry as he said, “Is it weird I’m kind of mad with Fred? We made a plan to turn 21 and travel the world. We could drink anywhere then, wizards areas or muggle places. Have you guys run the place to keep family off your back about jobs. Find so much in general but also for our potions. See Charlie and his dragons. Everything. Now…”

“Now?”

“Now here I am 21 and he never even made it. 21! I can’t even ask him if he feels weird about Angelina though I know he wouldn’t. But the principle of it. He broke our promise.”

Anyone else would have said he didn’t mean to, that if Fred could be here he would. That wasn’t what George needed right now. And it wasn’t what Harry said.

Harry replied, “21? He’d be 21 now?”

George knew Harry was fairly oblivious but it actually made him want to laugh - which he was thankful for. He answered, “Yes, that tends to be what twins means. I’m 21 so he would have been.”

Every single part of it snapped into place and Harry didn’t think he’d been so angry his entire life. His parents had looked younger than he expected with the ressurection stone but as he took in George now the age became apparent. One time thing, that’s when Hermione hadn’t replied before. Years now it stuck in the back of his head.1970 to 1998 generation after generation of child soldiers. He had been worn to the bone that night, he didn’t need telling his parents were kids when they had him - Fred’s dying age when they had him, George’s living age when they died. They had been part of the DA for years that’s what he remembered. He felt his guts run cold. George was years off having kids, Harry couldn’t even think of having kids in the next 5 years, whether or not the war had finished.Sirius once told him Lily and James were certain Voldemort would be gone soon days before their death, he said in a way they had been right, but he came back when they did not. The Order became secret, most associated with Dumbledore but never stopped despite what some believed.

Then his thoughts became worse… which he didn’t think was possible.

Neville’s parents. The same age. Tortured into madness - a fate worse than death. The pain of the spell Avada Kadavra had been horrid but instant, he had learned that himself. Neville's parents, however, hours they spent in that house never giving in their child’s location.

“We were all kids.” He replied, his voice tamed fire and he placed down the cup as to not throw it.

“Yeah. We were.” George said. It didn’t feel right saying are despite knowing it was correct. They didn’t feel like kids anymore for a long time now. Harry stood and George knew he had an idea.

Harry summoned his patronus and sent a message to McGonogall. The reply was quick with instructions on how to get in to Hogwarts. He had to remember there were some exceptions to quivering cowards of adults or manipulative chess players of people in power - McGonogall, Remus, Arthur and Molly, Hagrid, so many more would lay down their lives for the kids, angry that people had sent them on missions, tried to figure out what they could but with the pieces they needed in someone else’s hands it was hard to. Being no longer hormonal or in the center of it all with all the pieces he knew how hard they had been to find and that not everyone would have been able to help. But so many could have and never did and it still hurt.

He ushered himself and George away, following the instructions. He didn’t want everyone there if he wasn’t right about this. It took a long time but they found their way in and onto the seventh floor to where he expected it to be. There they stood still in hope.

After well over a minute where Harry thought he may explode George was the one to yell, “YOU OWE US THIS YOU STUPID SCHOOL!!”

As if admitting defeat in a staring contest the door to the Room of Requirement showed up. Almost by magic, Professor McGonogall… Or was it Headmistress McGonnogal now? … turned up and looked at them for a long time, unreadable.

“I didn’t mean to call the school stupid, sorry.” George looked sheepish.

With that she smiled and reluctantly answered, “I guess the whole army will want to blow off steam. I know it’s a non-school day but do try to not scream until you’re in the room.”

They walked into the room to see how it had set itself and realised they could only really describe it as a rage room. Filled with unwanted stuff ready to break with a few bats in the corner.

Then George did something he hadn’t done in a long time, he laughed freely. Unburdened if only for a moment. Then whispered to the air, “Thank you, you brilliant school.”

Everything played through his mind fogging it up with awful memories and thoughts and then he swung the bat at a desk. The sound it made shattered the fog. For a moment Harry didn’t have to think about the systems raising of children, the hiding families, the secrets, how young so many had died - he didn’t have to be the chosen one anymore, the saviour. He and George could just be kids again as they took turned swinging a bat at a desk, laugh finally escaping them. Then who ever would follow through those doors in the coming hours including McGonogall herself would only have to think about how good it felt to get the anger out in a room filled with love. Harry and George could swear they felt the room warm a little.


End file.
